


The bloom is not a bloom, The mist not mist

by thimble



Category: Thunderbolt Fantasy 東離劍遊紀 (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 04:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15404490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thimble/pseuds/thimble
Summary: "You're a weed," sighs Shang when Lin falls into step with him for the umpteenth time. Lin's reply, like his smile, appears easily."A compliment to my resilience."Where the Edgeless Blade goes, the Enigmatic Gale follows.





	The bloom is not a bloom, The mist not mist

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Thunderbolt Fantasy Zine Project](https://thunderboltfantasyzine.tumblr.com/).

未雨綢繆

_to close the windows tight before it rains_

 

A great thief is not made overnight. First, he works his way up unspoken hierarchies, nuisance turning into notoriety as gray skies into rainfall.

Because while a common thief picks pockets and a good thief picks locks, a truly excellent thief knows that value lies in things intangible. It is how one comes to be known as the Enigmatic Gale, though whoever coined the title must not realize how right they are.

Not unlike a storm, he leaves wreckage where he's walked, his own heart safely shielded from the downpour.

 

* * *

 

叱吒風雲

_able to make the wind and clouds dance_

 

Greatness, however, does not lie solely in slow-building monsoons. Shang Bu Huan is a force of nature closer to a hurricane, though he does not destroy as much as he creates opportunity for new beginnings. Among those who would level rice fields in a blink, he is the water crops need after a drought.

This rare brand of heroism ensures that he has nothing Lin Xue Ya, the thief, would want. But stealing is only a part of deception; it is also in a thief's nature to satisfy his curiosities.

 

* * *

 

如雷貫耳

_like thunder through one’s ear_

 

He does not follow Shang as much as he is strung along, powerless to nothing but his piqued interest. His whims are not to blame; Shang presents endless possibility, and even Lin is not the kind to resist treasure when laid in the open.

"You're a weed," sighs Shang when Lin falls into step with him for the umpteenth time. Lin's reply, like his smile, appears easily.

"A compliment to my resilience."

To passersby, the Edgeless Blade and the Enigmatic Gale must seem like ordinary travelers. Shang denies their similarities vehemently, but this is precisely how they both prefer it.

 

* * *

 

如履薄冰

_walking on thin ice_

 

The notion of falling without realizing it is ridiculous at best, and careless at worst. How can one not notice the wind rushing past one's ears, the sensation of gravity pulling one to the ground?

(Like this:

By turning his head after a sly remark to see if the corners of Shang's mouth lift, or by watching him eat shaobing with attention reserved for forgeries.

And once, by smiling, thoughtless rather than easy, at Shang's sleeping face in the morning, brow knotted, a second away from waking to scowl at the sunlight.)

 

* * *

 

如蹈湯火

_like walking among flames_

 

None are more acquainted with consequences than thieves, a profession where the slightest mistake can result in execution. Lin remembers this, though he does not heed it, readily offering his neck to the blade in exchange for amusement.

Normally, Shang can fend off his pursuers, courtesy of Lin's storytelling days, by himself.

This does not mean he is invincible.

From where he is idly standing, Lin sees it clearly: a sword, raised to pierce through an opening in Shang's side, and consequences no longer seem like a laughing matter.

 

* * *

 

電光石火

_lightning and fire_

 

A moment is all it takes.

With a flick of his wrist, his pipe turns into the weapon he'd abandoned; with an instinctive thrust, the attacker drops his sword before it can touch a hair on Shang's head.

"Lin, what are you—?"

Shang whirls around, taking in the scene: a corpse at Lin's feet and a sword, red and slick, unsheathed in his hand.

Lin does not answer.

There is only one explanation for his actions and it twists in a fresh wound, a knife he would rather not name.  

 

* * *

 

翻天覆地

_the sky and land flipping over_

 

The fight ends as they often do—unceremoniously. Soon they are the last two standing, though Lin has returned to the sidelines, holding his pipe as if it had never been anything else.

"So sluggish today, Sir Shang."

"The hell was that?" A bewildered frown adorns Shang's mouth. "You had a sword, and you—"

"Are you certain of what you saw?" says Lin, exhaling smoke with the lie. "You, of all people, know of my pipe's transformative properties."

"Shut the hell up."

The familiar phrase is heated like it's never been before.

 

* * *

 

 捉風捕影

_to catch the wind and hunt the shadow_

 

Without preamble, Shang advances on Lin. The distance between them dissipates; the tension remains.

Staring at each other, Shang no longer seems so edgeless, and Lin no longer so enigmatic.

"You saved me." Suspicion laces Shang's voice. "What are you up to?"

Lin smiles, almost feral. "Broken toys are of no use to me."

"You don't risk your life for a toy." When Shang speaks next, it is with revelation, a tempest neither of them are ready for. "Unless I'm something else."

In Lin's chest, his heart coughs up floodwater.

"How unbecoming, for the Edgeless Blade to think so highly of himself."

 

* * *

 

煙消雲散

_smoke disappearing and cloud dispersing_

 

In the evening, Lin packs one thing (his pipe), decides on two (that he is in too deep, that he must leave), and finds three blocking his escape (the locked door, the one standing in front of it, and another question he cannot answer.)

"Where do you think you're going?"

 

* * *

 

樹欲息而風不停

_the tree wants to rest but the wind will not stop_

 

"How strange to stand in my way when you can finally be rid of me." Before Lin can lift his pipe to his lips, a deflection, Shang wraps a hand over his wrist.

"I'm not letting you go, idiot. Not after you've wrecked everything."

It is still true that Shang Bu Huan has nothing that Lin Xue Ya, the thief, deems valuable, but there is finally something of his that Lin Xue Ya, the man, wants desperately to steal.

"There will be nothing left of a place if a storm stays in it too long."

How strange indeed, to have it be freely given instead.

"I've survived worse."

Shang's grip tightens and Lin sighs, helplessly. "You will get very wet, Sir Shang."

He gets a snort in response.

"Umbrellas aren't hard to find."

 


End file.
